


Auctioned Off

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-28
Updated: 2009-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a small birthday present for <a href="http://genclay.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://genclay.livejournal.com/"><b>genclay</b></a>. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! *great big hugs* (I didn't follow your prompt exactly to the letter, but I hope you'll like what I did with it anyway!)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Auctioned Off

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small birthday present for [](http://genclay.livejournal.com/profile)[**genclay**](http://genclay.livejournal.com/). HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! *great big hugs* (I didn't follow your prompt exactly to the letter, but I hope you'll like what I did with it anyway!)

Superman was nervously pacing the backstage area, trying to keep from throwing a punch right through a brick wall, wishing he'd never agreed to something as ridiculous as a bachelor auction in the first place.

Three weeks ago, when Clark had found the invitation to this charity shindig in the pile of mail addressed to Superman, he'd just smiled at the idea. After carefully checking the day-planner he kept for his super alter ego, Clark had picked up the phone to let the organizers know that Superman would be happy to attend.

Things had gone straight to hell from there...

=:=:=

Clark was still on the phone when, through an open window, Batman burst into the apartment.

It was Thursday night... Bruce Wayne had meetings every Thursdays in Metropolis, at the end of which he unfailingly came calling. But while he categorically refused to come in through the front door like any normal person, Bruce didn't seem to mind a bit if anyone spotted Batman entering the top floor window that led to Clark's apartment.

Batman walked from the window all the way to the living room area, removing his cowl and gloves on the way. He set them down on the coffee table and casually sat on the couch's armrest closest to Clark.

Smiling, Clark placed a hand over Bruce's armored thigh, and, smiling back, Bruce placed his own hand over Clark's, lacing their fingers together.

As Clark carried on with his phone conversation, Bruce looked around the place idly, not searching for anything, just...waiting. Then all of a sudden, he had spotted the invitation on the table and immediately understood what Clark was talking about with whoever he was on the phone with, and it was like the world had abruptly stopped turning.

Just a few seconds later, as Clark was hanging up the phone, Bruce removed his hand from where it rested over Clark's and asked, "You're going to that thing?" There was bitterness in his words, and something akin to disapproval in his eyes.

Clark frowned slightly. "Well hello to you too," he said, a bit taken aback, by his companion's lack of civility. When Bruce just raised an eyebrow at him, Clark added, "I'm not going. Superman is..." before letting his hand drop back to his own lap.

"Same difference," Bruce said curtly. "You know that's a _bachelor_ auction, right?"

His frown deepening, Clark replied, "Of course."

"I see..."

With that, Bruce reached for his cowl and gloves, a grim, somber expression on his face - the sort Batman was best at.

Clark looked at him in confusion. Apparently, accepting the invitation had been a _faux pas_. And by the looks of things, a serious one at that. He scratched the back of his head absently before saying, "Look, I... I didn't think you'd _mind_."

And really, why _would_ Bruce mind?

This thing between them - whatever it was - hadn't been defined by any means. It hadn't even been going on for more than a couple of months. No one knew... Not a soul. Which didn't mean that Clark wanted it to be undefined and kept under wraps, but Bruce did, so Clark just followed suit, convincing himself that it was likely the best way not to break whatever this was. Forcing Batman into anything - especially something that had feelings attached to it - was the best way to insure he wouldn't stick around.

"I see..."

Bruce stood, pulling the cowl back over his head, and the gloves back on his hands.

=:=:=

Superman let out a long frustrated sigh at the memory of that evening. If he'd only tried to fix things instead of putting his foot in his mouth so spectacularly...

Bruce had been about to leave, but rather than stop him and tell him in no uncertain words that it was just for charity, that it didn't mean anything, and that it certainly wouldn't lead to anything, Clark had instead stupidly stated that Superman was and always would be single.

Why it hadn't occurred to Clark at the time that both things didn't really mean the same, he would never understand.

To make matters worse, he'd stammered something absolutely idiotic about not being aware that whatever it was between them was supposed to be exclusive.

Batman had left almost immediately, mumbling to himself.

For the first time since their _undefined relationship_ had begun, Batman had slipped into Clark's apartment through the window on a Thursday night but he hadn't stayed the night.

And he hadn't been back since...

=:=:=

Over the next two weeks, it had seemed like everywhere Clark looked there was Bruce Wayne with a pretty girl hanging decoratively on each arm. Every time a different one. Models, dancers, starlets, heiresses, beauty queens... every one of them with legs that went on forever and the cleavage to match. An endless display of blonde bimbos with fake nails, hair extensions, purse puppies, and more bling than a rap video.

Of course, Clark wasn't really fooled - he knew perfectly well that they were just hood ornaments on the playboy's hot rod reputation: decorative symbols of fortune, taste, even class, but without any actual function.

But when Bruce had been spotted coming out of nightclubs, boy toys glued to his side like giant leeches, Clark had started to wonder. And worry.

Clark had tried several times to reach him, through any means he could think of that wasn't as in-your-face as a direct confrontation, and failed every single time. There was no getting in touch with Bruce Wayne. He was apparently available for anyone and everyone this side of the Van Allen belt, except Clark Kent.

Then, all of a sudden, a week before the auction, it had seemed like Bruce had dropped off the face of the earth completely.

That's when Clark had really started going out of his mind with guilt, worry and remorse.

=:=:=

Superman stopped pacing when one of the assistant stage managers came to let him know that he was supposed to be going on-stage next. He looked at her and nodded his understanding, forcing a very fake smile on his lips.

Apparently mistaking his restlessness for stage fright, she patted him on the arm gently and said, "Don't worry, you'll be fine. This can't be any harder than that time you lifted a satellite into space..."

Superman tried to chuckle, but didn't have it in him to laugh. All he really wanted was to tell her that he couldn't do this - that he _wouldn't_. Of course it wasn't really as though he had a reason to give them...

In the back of his mind, he started wishing for some small cataclysm that would require his intervention. Anything that would get him out of here. He wanted so desperately to be able to leave, to fly away, and not go through with this auction.

Because if he didn't, then maybe he'd be able to fix the awful wreck he'd made of the best thing to happen to him since he'd started flying around Metropolis in blue tights and a cape.

He needed to go and find Bruce. And then apologize - apologize however many times it took for it to work. So that their relationship would be undefined again rather than nonexistent.

Clark could live with undefined. Undefined exclusiveness. Yes, that could work. But nonexistent... No. Nonexistent, Clark absolutely couldn't stand anymore.

Just as he was about to make up some sort of lie about having heard something and needing to take care of...whatever would come to mind as he made it up...he was being ushered on stage by the young stage assistant.

Head bowed down in defeat, Superman followed her silently, his mind busy reciting every synonym of nonexistent he could remember, in every language he knew.

=:=:=

"And now, something _really_ special," said the master of ceremony, excitement clear in her voice. "A _Super_ date. A Sunday picnic in the clouds."

Superman stood there motionless, looking toward the audience with a blank expression on his face. He couldn't see anyone, blinded as he was by the spotlight that was aimed directly at him. He tried to force himself to smile at the crowd that was cheering loudly, but gave up immediately.

The emcee waved for the crowd to calm down so that the auction could proceed. "So, Ladies," she finally said over the clatter, "what will you give me for the Man Of Steel?"

"One million dollars," came a loud, very assertive - and very masculine - voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

The audience went completely still and quiet.

The master of ceremony cleared her throat, eyes wide.

Superman desperately tried to hide a goofy smile. Under the big, bright, diamond-shaped logo on the superhero's chest, Clark Kent's heart was singing a cheesy little song of joy.

=:=:=

The auction over, Bruce Wayne strode nonchalantly backstage. Relieved of his million dollars, he was coming to claim his prize.

"Just so you know," he told Superman as he walked up to him, " _this_ -" Bruce gestured alternately between them "- is exclusive. Completely exclusive."

Superman stared back in stunned silence. He should be saying something, he knew, but he was terrified that it wouldn't come out right.

Bruce seemed to take his silence for some form of protest because he drew a slow breath and said, "I _need_ this to be exclusive." Then, eyes closed, he whispered, "Please."

Knowing that this was basically the equivalent for Batman of dropping to his knees and _begging_ , Clark supposed that there wasn't any need for further torturing.

"Okay," Superman said, in a voice that was really just his alter ego's soft, gentle tone.

The tiniest of smiles was tugging at Bruce's lips when he opened his eyes again. A real smile, not one of the playboy's fake, vapid excuses for a smile.

Superman - who was really just Clark Kent in a costume at that precise moment - smiled back and, shyly, asked, "Does this mean we can tell people now?"

Bruce opened his mouth to object, but found that all his arguments were illogical or silly, so he closed it again. Frowning slightly, he finally said, "Yes."

This time, Clark didn't bother trying to hide the goofy little smile that had " _I think he loves me_ " written all over it.

=> End.


End file.
